Beauty School Dropout
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Leia's late for an event - she needs to feed the baby, and do her make-up - and Han can help with only one of those things, considering he lacks the necessary body parts for one of them. H/L; fluffy. TFA canon.


_a/n: inspired by a tumblr post (that i made) - one of my rare forays into TFA canon that ignores any nonsense characterization of Han/Leia.  
really, the only reason I go into this canon sometimes is because I need a baby to use and I don't want to make one up. _

* * *

**_Beauty School Dropout_**

 _("now your bangs are curled,  
your lashes twirled,  
but still the world is cruel...")_

* * *

Han _knew_ that look.

When he walked in the apartment door, pretty thoroughly covered in engine grease and roguishly wrinkled from the contract work he'd been doing with the New Republic fleet, Leia dashed past him, her robe hanging off one shoulder – and when she paused, and looked at him, instantly – he _knew_ that look.

That look of confidence that fronted thinly veiled desperation, a woman who was seconds away from either bursting into angry, stressed tears or breaking something because she was too distracted and frazzled to focus – she took one look at him, paused for a moment, and her lips trembled. Han could hear Ben crying somewhere – their bedroom, maybe the nursery? – and he shut the door and looked at Leia quizzically - she flung her hands out, palms up, and turned towards him.

"Help," she demanded simply, and though asking for help had been hard for Leia in the past, she'd gotten much more accustomed to it since the baby had been born.

Han nodded, dropping his tools and kicking them aside with his foot. He strode forward, reaching for her shoulders, and she folded her arms with tense aggravation, pursing her lips.

"Garisha is sick; I _had_ to send her home," Leia said rapidly, referring to their nanny. "I think Ben's caught what she had anyway – he's so fussy," she explained, "I have to get dressed – I have to do my make-up – I'm going to be _late_ for this event, and it's already – they're _already_ breathing down my neck about my priorities, as if I _can't_ have a baby and an senate position – "

Han nodded through all of her words, keeping his eyes focused, and his head steady. He squeezed her shoulders.

"I'll see if I can calm Ben down," he said calmly.

"He's hungry," Leia said, her eyes filling up with tears.

"Ahh, that's easy, I'll feed him," Han said, touching her under the chin encouragingly.

Leia shrugged at herself, dejected.

"I…didn't have _time_ to prep any bottles for you," she said shakily, "all he has is formula, and he hates it – I wanted to feed him myself _once_ before I left, but I'm," she gestured at herself hopelessly, "I'm running out of time, and I can't go looking like this – I have to look like I have it together – "

Han continued to nod, listening thoughtfully. Garisha was supposed to be here late tonight, to make things easy for Leia until Han got home from his assignment. He wondered how long Leia had been on her own if she'd sent the nanny home, but he didn't waste time asking.

"I got an idea," he said firmly.

Leia parted her lips, and arched her brows, and he smirked.

"Yeah, I got it," he said, nodding smugly. "Go get dressed," he said. "I'll get Ben. Meet you in the 'fresher," he said.

He let go of her and breezed past, and Leia stood there a moment, her mouth open, staring at the door.

"Han," she started, pivoting on her foot – but she swallowed her question, and decided to run with it.

 _Han, what are you up to?_ – she thought, as she dashed into their bedroom and shuffled through the closet for the gown she'd laid aside for this event – Ben's persistent crying hurt her more by the second, though it quieted a little bit when Han got in there and picked him up – what she wouldn't give to wear a pair of leather leggings and a tunic, but this event called for _traditional_ formalwear –

She rushed into the 'fresher to check her braids – the simple style she'd worn to the office today would have to do – and adjust the décolletage of her gown; it was one of the simplest she owned; silver, flowing waist, teasing, though not vulgar, dip of the neckline.

She turned and nearly ran into Han as he stepped into the 'fresher, holding Ben against his shoulder effortlessly. Ben still fidgeted and fussed, lifting his head and turning his red face from side to side, and Leia reached out to place a hand on his back.

"Shhh," she soothed, as calmly as she could manage. She raised her eyes to Han's tiredly. "He's been crying since the moment Garisha left," she said, tears filling her eyes again. "I'm not home enough."

"Nah, Leia, c'mon," Han soothed. "S'like you said; he's hungry."

He nodded his head.

"Back up," he instructed. He glanced past her to make sure the seat was down. "Sit on the sani," he told her.

She did, rather abruptly, her back straight. She looked up at him, her shoulders slumping all at once, and shook her head apprehensively.

"No, I think he's wary of me," she persisted guiltily.

"He's so little he doesn't know or care who takes care of him," Han snorted.

"He calls me Mama," Leia argued.

Han arched a brow, crouching down and shifting Ben into a cradle. He gave her a look.

"Aren't _you_ the one who told me those were just random sounds when I got excited he said Dada?" he demanded pointedly. "'Sides, he calls Luke Mama, too."

Leia sniffed, and laughed hoarsely. She shrugged, and Han handed her Ben, inclining his head at her chest.

"Feed 'im," he said gruffly. He put his hand on the sink to help him stand up, wincing and running a hand over his knee. He opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. "I'll do your make-up."

Rocking the baby gently, Leia stared up at him skeptically, one brow cocked.

"You – what?"

"Hey, I've watched you do it enough," he said, gathering all the things he knew she used. "I can do it. You just sit there and feed 'im."

Leia's eyes widened with alarm, and for a split second – that lasted a lifetime – she stared at him, unable to decide if she was going to allow it to happen. Ben, however, turned into her chest and clutched at the neck of her gown, shrieking unhappily, and that ultimately decided it for her – he'd be even more miserable than this all night if Han was stuck trying to get him to take a bottle of _formula_.

She braced herself and fumbled with the fabric of her gown, adjusting until the expensive silk was tucked out of the way, and Ben was tucked against her breast – and silent, _finally_ – and then she closed her eyes and leaned back a little, _relieved_.

When she opened them, Han was down on one knee next to her, dramatically holding up a tube of lipstick.

"Now," he said, deadpan, "this goes on your eye, right?"

Leia straightened up, narrowing her eyes, and Han grinned, dropping the lipstick to his side pocket and picking up her tinted moisturizer instead.

"'M messin' with you," he said smugly.

Leia relaxed a little.

"Hold still," he warned, and she lifted her chin almost instinctively, remembering what it was like to have her make-up done for her from her days on Alderaan.

Granted, her make-up artists then had been classically trained, usually very famous, beauticians who spent years learning their craft, not a former smuggler whose experience in cosmetology included _sometimes_ brushing his hair. She closed her lips lightly and breathed in and out slowly, asking herself to trust him, and focusing her energy on Ben. She held him snugly, reaching out through the Force to provide additional comfort for him while he ate – and she only flinched once or twice, warily, while Han went through the motions.

He didn't _seem_ too heavy on the foundation or the rouge.

"Uh, open your eyes," he muttered, and when she did so, it was to be presented with an eyeliner pencil slowly targeting the lower part of her eye.

Han caught his tongue between his teeth and then held her chin steady.

"Don't move," he muttered.

Leia disobeyed him, though all she did was smile, gratefully, and pat her hand lightly in a rhythm against Han's back. Without thinking, she swayed back and forth a little, and Han reared back, glaring at her.

"Sorry," she apologized softly. "Ben likes it when I rock him."

Han glanced down at Ben.

"Give me a minute, kid," he muttered, taking Leia's face in his hand again and retuning to her eyeliner.

Leia held her eyes open, and then when he requested, closed them, and felt him brush a hint of shadow on the lid. It was a few minutes of shuffling before he leaned forward, took her chin again, and said –

"Blink a few times."

He sounded a little suspicious, but when she opened her eyes and blinked against the mascara wand, he looked satisfied, and proud of his idea, and he hit her lashes with the wand every time she blinked, coating them.

"What colour lipstick do you want?" he asked gruffly.

Leia turned her head to him, pretending to cover Ben's exposed ear with his hand.

"What colour would look best on you later?" she asked in a low voice, tilting her head suggestively.

Han grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and she nodded, a grateful, affectionate expression on her face – he was definitely in for some appreciate treatment when she got home tonight –

He held up a relatively unused tube of dark red, and Leia sighed, and allowed it – she had previously told him that particular shade was too sexy for political events – but, he had a penchant for it, so she pursed her lips –

He handed her a tissue to press her mouth against to clean up the edges, and Leia handed it back when she was done, looking down at Ben and running her hands through his thin hair. It took him a few more minutes to finish eating, and when he shifted his head and looked up at her contently, Leia arched her brows at him, puckering her lips in a soft air kiss.

"Hmm, let's see how I look," she whispered, standing up.

She kissed Ben's head – leaving a smudged lipstick mark, and handed him to Han; Han immediately put Ben to his shoulder and started patting his back soothingly, shifting his weight lightly from one foot to the other. Leia ducked her head and then looked up at the mirror, biting her lip in anticipation, wondering if this was going to be the thing that made her so catastrophically late she'd regret ever being so bent out of shape that she'd agreed to it –

It wasn't bad.

The lipstick was dark, but that was just its colour; it was put on well. Her only complaint was that the mascara was a little thick, which gave her the appearance of – well, she looked like she belonged more on the _vixen mistress_ side of the generic female spectrum rather than the _happily married mother_ side – but it did not look bad, or unattractive

Delighted, she raised her eyebrows at her reflection, and looked at Han in the mirror.

"All this time, I was living with a beautician," she teased. "Where _ever_ did you attend school, Captain Solo?"

"I was a dropout," he retorted, deadpan. "Got caught up with this kid and his sister and never went back."

Leia laughed a little distractedly. She turned around and faced him, biting her lip. She flicked her nicely done lashes a couple of times.

"What do I owe you for the service?" she quipped.

"Just the tip," he fired back, winking.

Leia laughed harder, her cheeks flushing. She nodded, catching his meaning easily, and pressed her fingertips to her lips, blowing him a kiss.

"I'll skip out on the event early," she assured him.

He smirked, and she stepped forward, to kiss the back of Ben's head, and to kiss the corner of Han's mouth.

"Thank you," she said softly, turning to go get her shoes, and –

"Hey, Sweetheart?"

"Yes?"

Han leaned against the 'fresher doorway, and nodded his head pointedly at her chest.

"Might want to put that back _in_ your dress before you leave," he drawled casually.

Leia looked confused, and then followed his gaze – and caught her breath, mumbling a swear at herself as she readjusted her dress, covering her bare breast and making sure the neckline returned to the way it was demurely meant to be. She smoothed her hands over the gown, looked up at Han, and sighed, a look of hopeful defeat on her face – if only, in all of her extensive princess tutoring, someone had thought to educate her on how hard it was to be working mother.

* * *

 _well, this was fun._

 _-alexandra_  
 _story #344_


End file.
